Schism
by BelloftheSea
Summary: The last time I saw Al, his hands were pressed against the glass, tears streaming down his face, his mouth wide open, screaming Brother! Brother! as the car drove away.


**Schism**

The last time I saw Al, his hands were pressed against the glass, tears streaming down his face, his mouth wide open, screaming _Brother! Brother!_ as the car drove away.

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><p><strong>A.N. <strong> This story was tossing about in my head and I decided to go ahead and write it. It's a one-shot, maybe a two-shot if I feel like adding a bit more.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated K+

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><p>After our mother died, Al and I went to live with the Rockbells – officially anyway. Technically we still spent most of our time at our own house. Uncle Urey and Aunt Sara were okay with that though. They didn't want to tear us away from the only home we'd ever known. <em>We're country folk, anyway,<em> Uncle Urey would say. It was his way of explaining how it was okay for two little boys to live mostly by themselves. No one else in Resembool had a problem with it either. The house was ours and if we wanted to live there, then we would live there. That's just the way things worked in the country. Everyone did their part to look after us – we had visitors all the time and were never without something to eat. It worked out well for us.

When the State came to check on us, we played like good little wards and slept over at the Rockbell house, as though we'd been living there the whole time. It was like a game. We weren't really lying; the stories we told the social workers were always true – about how Aunt Sara baked a special cake for Al's birthday and Uncle Urey took us fishing down by the creak. We always picked the best stories to share and Winry did her part too – telling them how nice it was to have other kids to play with.

So for that first year, after Mom died, we were okay. We missed her something terrible, but at least we had each other and we were okay.

Then Uncle Urey and Aunt Sara were called to work in Ishval. We were all too young to really understand about war. We knew that people died in war – but those people were soldiers. Uncle Urey and Aunt Sara were just doctors, so they would be safe. That's what we thought. We were wrong.

The people from the State decided that three orphans were too much for one little old lady to take care of; nevermind that Granny Pinako was probably the strongest little old lady in the world – I've still got bumps on my head to prove it. So Al and I were taken away from Resembool – to a children's home in East City.

We hated it there. The older kids were mean and the younger kids were noisy. The city was big and smelly and we weren't allowed to go anywhere alone. They wouldn't let us practice alchemy either. When we tried, they punished us – making us write lines or do extra chores. We didn't mind these so much and alchemy was too important so we kept practicing till they figured out the one punishment that would make us promise anything – they threatened to separate us.

We fell in line after that – doing as we were told. I wouldn't let them take my brother away. I would do everything in my power to keep that from happening. But apparently, toeing the line and following the rules wasn't enough. Madame Brewery came down from Central. The so-called _expert_ on childcare decided it was abnormal and unhealthy for two young boys to have such a strong attachment to one another. Apparently brothers weren't supposed to be so close.

I've never hated anyone in my life so much as I hated that woman. She's the one who took Al away. We fought her – kicking, screaming, tearing her clothes, scratching at her skin, _anything_ to keep her from ripping us apart. We begged and pleaded and promised a thousand different things. I pounded on the windows of the car, certain I could break the glass and pull my little brother out. We would run far away, where no one could find us and try to separate us again. But the glass wouldn't break and stronger arms were pulling me away.

The last time I saw Al, his hands were pressed against the glass, tears streaming down his face, his mouth wide open, screaming _Brother! Brother!_ as the car drove away.

I don't know where they took him but I swore I would find him again someday and I would find a way to keep them from taking him away again. _If only Mom were still alive_, I thought. _If she were here, they would be able to take Al. She wouldn't let them. _And that's when I realized what I needed to do.

I ran away.

They caught me and put me in a different home.

I ran from there as well.

The cycle continued for several years. I would run and they would find me and put me someplace new. In between, I studied. I learned whatever I could about alchemy. Libraries, it turns out, are a great place to hide. No one expects a runaway orphan to go to a library. They usually caught me when I went out to find food or slept on someone's doorstep.

They stopped putting me in children's homes; I was too dangerous and a bad influence on the other children. So I was shuffled from foster home to foster home. I never stayed long anywhere. I never made any attachments.

Finally, I decided I was ready. It helped that they'd put me in a home near Kaumafy, just North of Resembool. I didn't even have to stowaway on a train. I walked there. Took me few days but soon I was standing in front of my old house on the hill. I didn't let anyone know I was there; I couldn't risk being found. I went inside and pulled out all of my old man's books on alchemy. I spent the next week studying and sneaking into town at night for supplies. Once I was sure I had everything I needed, I put my years of study to work, trusting that everything would turn out right. After this, Mom would be alive and we'd find Al together and we'd be a family again.

It was probably a good thing that Mustang turned up when he did, otherwise I'd be dead. I lost my right arm and my left leg in the rebound. I lost a lot of blood too. Mustang took me to the Rockbell's house since they were the closest neighbors. It was good, since they knew me and they had medical knowledge on top of being automail designers. They were able to patch me up all right but I was still a mess.

It hadn't worked. Mom was still dead. Al was still gone. And there was no way for me to keep them from taking him away again even if I found him – not that I could go anywhere with two missing limbs anyway. Granny and Winry were worried. They hadn't seen me in years and then I suddenly turn up all bloody at their front door. They doted on me and I hated it. It reminded me of some of the foster parents – the ones who thought they could fix me with love and affection.

Mustang didn't dote on me. He had come to Resembool looking for my father – instead he found me. He knew what I had done and he didn't hesitate to tell me how stupid I was for trying it. Then he told me I was weak for letting this stop me. He told me to get up and keep moving. And then he offered me a chance to fix this mess by becoming a State Alchemist and learning more, maybe finding a way to restore my limbs. I didn't care about that. I only cared about finding Al and finding a way to keep him. But Mustang didn't know about Al. I didn't tell him. Still… if I were a State Alchemist, I would have power – a pocket watch and a rank – and Madame Brewery wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it. I'd make her tell me where they took Al and I _would_ get him back. Nothing was going to stop me.

With that in mind, I asked Winry and Granny to fit me with automail. I didn't waste any time in recovery. One year later I marched up the steps to East City Command and passed the State Alchemy Exam with flying colors. They'd never seen anything like me.

I thought everything would be easy then – that it would be as simple as using my title and position to find Al. I was wrong. Turns out I couldn't just get the watch and be on my merry way. I was a dog of the military and I had to do what they said. I had work to do – missions, reports, paperwork – and hardly any free time to search for my brother. Mustang was an ass about it. Granted, he didn't know why I kept asking for missions in Central; but it was none of his business. Technically, he was my guardian. Without that, the State wouldn't have allowed me to join the military. He already knew too much about me. He even knew my darkest secret. I didn't want him to know about Al.

When I finally made it to Central, it had nothing to do with a mission. Mustang had been summoned there for a meeting and I, as his ward, was required to tag along since I didn't have a mission of my own at the time. I made quick use of my time there but my inquiries into social services were less than helpful. Madame Brewery had retired some years back and their filing system was sorely out of date. I used my pocket watch to get access to the archives and started wading through paperwork. It took hours. I was just about to give up when I stumbled upon his file.

_Alphonse Elric_

I tore through the papers eagerly, flipping through the early ones which detailed our time with the Rockbells in Resembool, and our early stay in the children's home. I went straight to the end, looking for his current location. Surely he was still in a children's home, or maybe he'd been placed in a foster home like I had. But the last page didn't contain an address or a name. It didn't really say much of anything.

_Closed Adoption: file transferred to Adoptive Services_

I stared at the words, not fully comprehending. What did that mean? Al was… adopted? That couldn't be right. He wouldn't have allowed it. He was waiting for me to come find him. He wouldn't have found a new family. But… he had. Or maybe they had just forced it on him. Yeah… that was it. When I found him, he would leave them. _I _was his family. We were all each other had.

I just needed to find the paperwork that said who adopted him. That was in Adoptive Services. I didn't know where that was but I was going to find out. I dashed out of the file room, intending to ask the first person I saw. Unfortunately, the first person I saw was Mustang. He'd come looking for me. Apparently, he was going to have dinner with some friends of his and I was expected to come along. I argued, saying I'd eat out and not to worry about me. But he insisted. He'd already told them I was coming and their children were looking forward to meeting the Fullmetal Alchemist.

I hated that. I hated being treated like some sort of idol. I hated being paraded around like the mascot of the military. The called me the _Hero of the People_ – and why? Just because I didn't like watching others suffering? Just because I tried to help people? What was so weird about that? Alchemy for the people, right? That's how it was supposed to be. So what made me so different from everyone else? I wasn't that selfless. I wasn't doing this for them. I was doing it for me and for Al. I wasn't a hero. I was just a kid who'd screwed up big time and wanted to get his brother back.

I shuffled after the idiot Colonel all the way to his friends' apartment. Then I lingered in the hallway, not wanting to face the adoring fan-kids.

"Uncle Roy!" Mustang was greeted eagerly by a young voice and it was weird to hear him reply with a certain fondness in his own.

"Hey Kiddo. Where's your dad?"

"He's giving Elicia a bath. And Mom's finishing dinner in the kitchen. Uncle Roy! After we eat can I show you some of the alchemy I've been working on? Mom and Dad think it's great but they don't really get it. I've been waiting for you to visit so I could get the opinion of a _real_ alchemist."

So the kid was an alchemist – or a wanna-be anyway. That just made it worse. He'd probably be fawning all over me. I eyed the stairwell, wondering if I could make a break for it before the Colonel realized I was missing.

"How about two real alchemist? Get in here, Fullmetal."

So much for that idea. I sighed and trudged slowly to the door, cringing at the boy's over-excited chatter.

"He's really here?"

"Of course he's here. I told you I'd bring him, didn't I?"

I stepped across the threshold but didn't look at the kid. I kept my eyes averted and scowled. Maybe if I seemed unfriendly enough, he'd leave me alone.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Fullmetal. Wow, you really are just a kid like the papers – huh?"

The kid drifted off and I figured my plan had paid off. No one wants to talk to a grouch. Mustang wasn't too happy with it though.

"Don't be rude, Ed. Say hello."

I rolled my eyes but didn't spare the kid a glance. "Hi."

"Ed…" The boy repeated softly. I frowned. There was something about that voice. "Brother?"

I gasped and looked up, only to stare into eyes that were just like mine. He was taller than I remembered, but then so was I. His face wasn't quite as round and his hair was cut a little shorter. But his eyes… I knew those eyes. They were my brother's eyes… Al's eyes.


End file.
